


Stress Relief

by Macx



Series: Imperfection Deviation [85]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-01
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:28:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barricade finally gets to stretch his servos in a real fight against a Prime. Jazz takes advantage of the energy build-up...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Relief

Barricade picked himself off the ground, dust, debris and sand cascading off his armor. In the distance the loud thunder of explosions and concussion grenades told of the still on-going battle, but he was no longer part of it. He had played his role and he had succeeded where others had been left confused and overrun in the desert, wondering how their opponent had managed to take them out.

The shock-trooper hadn’t made the mistake to underestimate the Prime, despite having less fire power and being smaller in size. Barricade had never let size or power fool him. It was what had let him survive for so long.

Today he had reached his limits. It was no small wonder since surprise had been on Iron Man’s side. Guardian Prime. He was living up to that name in huge steps now. Whatever had happened in the past months, something had apparently been knocked loose and it was finally no longer obstructing his vision. Barricade had silently watched from the sidelines, aware that Tony Stark was fighting with a special kind of inner demon. The shock-trooper had involuntarily become rather good at picking up on those things. Working with Sam Witwicky for over two decades, training his powers, being as close to him as only one other mech was, Barricade had learned a lot about humans. He had also been taught a few lessons about meddling dead Primes, their human descendants, and what the Allspark had done to the unsuspecting individuals.

Sam had dealt.

Lennox had dealt.

It seemed so had finally also Tony Stark.

That ‘dealing with it’ had resulted in this battle scenario was a bonus – at least from his point of view.

Barricade fingered a long tear across his chest armor, surprised at how deep the stress fracture ran. He had also been more than surprised when he had been hit by the intense energy beam from Iron Man’s arc reactor. So far he had only considered the repulsors and assorted hidden weaponry a danger. And the smaller opponent’s speed and maneuverability.

He had been wrong and he had paid for his mistake. Never underestimate an opponent. Never consider the intel you have complete.

He had been lax.

Barricade snarled softly to himself.

Damage control gave him a list of problems and failures. He ignored it. He was functional, he could still fight, and he was mobile. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

It had felt immensely good to stretch his gears, get his systems running on full, reaching peak performance in a true battle, and feeling alive. Right now he felt more alive than ever, all senses wide open, taking in the slightest noise from around him. He might be bruised and battered and down for the count for this scenario, but his general sense of himself was truly outstanding.

“He gotcha good,” a voice came teasingly from behind.

Barricade had felt Jazz’s approach, but he hadn’t been alarmed by his spark-bonded’s arrival. The Decepticon still deep down inside his spark was sometimes worried that he didn’t classify the Autobot as ‘enemy’ or ‘dangerous’, that he simply recognized the familiar hum and shiver Jazz’s presence was within him. A much larger part knew that his bonded would never betray him, let alone kill him.

“He upgraded,” Barricade rumbled.

“Tony’s been tinkering with a few things. Rodimus told me. Didn’t know he could use the arc reactor like that. Impressive.”

Jazz was leaning against a severely cracked boulder, looking relaxed and amused, and Barricade’s spark shivered at the expression of raw heat in the blue optics. Something inside of him hummed with need. It was a violent, primal need that surprised him. Fueled by the lingering rush of the fight, it was looking to release the still bundled energy, uncoil and strike, and take Jazz with him.

“And you looked hot, Cade.”

Ever since coming to this planet, Jazz had adopted it as his home away from home with a gusto that could be called frightening. He loved everything about this world, studied its diverse cultures, and he had taken behavior or used slang from the humans more often than not. Barricade had learned to be tolerant.

“Really, really hot,” Jazz purred.

 _Really tolerant. Like now_ , Barricade thought darkly.

Not that he objected to the more creative phases. Jazz had found new and improved ways of Sharing, and Barricade would be a fool to keep him from doing that.

His spark tingled with tiny electrical charges at the simple memory of those new and improved ways. He flexed his claws, aware that he was tethering on the edge, drawn between fighting and something a lot less battle-oriented but no less intense and volatile.

Jazz grinned as if picking up on his train of thought and stepped closer to him. The fingers of his right hand ran along the torn chest armor while his left hand brushed over the fracture of his thigh.

Their sparks pulsed in unity. Barricade’s fizzed with unreleased power.

The bond, neglected for millennia, had deepened and healed in their comparatively short time on this planet, and Barricade was frightened and elated by the changes in one. The bond had changed him more profoundly in the past years than in all the time on Cybertron. It calmed and balanced him. It gave him a purpose away from war. It was part of him like it had never been before.

Humans would call the emotions – which he denied feeling at all – love. He wasn’t human. Their connection was beyond any human concept. It was solely based on their birth, on what the Allspark had created within their sparks, and it was completely alien to a human mind. And still one of them understood. Sam Witwicky had seen and felt the bond quite often throughout their past training sessions, and he had an inkling as to what it entailed.

Barricade felt something thrum through him as Jazz ran he teasing caress over the stress fractures, looking positively mischievous. While he was using adopted human techniques of flirting and seduction, Barricade didn’t mind them at all. He reacted to the caress in a way that would have been unthinkable before Earth.

The shock-trooper grabbed a wandering hand and pushed his partner back against the cracked boulder, optics awash in red light. A low rumble rose from his chest.

Jazz smiled, not the least bit frightened by the response. Barricade scraped his sharp-tipped claws over the silver armor, eliciting a shiver.

“Fast learner,” Jazz whispered, voice a bit shaky.

Barricade knew why and he delighted in turning his partner into a puddle of need. He, too, had learned a few things and he, too, had taken a few hints from human behavior. Jazz wanted to play and Barricade was loathe not to follow that wish.

The receptors that covered every surface of the silver skin were normally used to analyze atmospheric and environmental conditions, but they also gave Jazz a sensitivity that Barricade had used for his purposes in the past. Sensory input overload often triggered sharing and it was intense. He had found new and ingenious ways to keep Jazz from triggering, which had earned him a few curse words.

“Kinky,” Jazz murmured and reciprocated.

The pulse of energy from the familiar spark had Barricade hiss and push Jazz harder against the boulder, armor clanking together.

The sound of the ongoing fight was far in the distance. He didn’t care who won and who lost. Right now his full attention was on his bonded, on the bright blue optics, the rising energy that collected between them, and the sensation of having Jazz pinned underneath him. The very closeness of the other was influencing his thought processes.

The heat of the battle, the aggression from the fight, the sheer delight of letting lose without thinking about the consequences, had his systems on a high that Barricade still had to come down from, and from the way Jazz was trying to get a new rise out of him he knew it wouldn’t be any time soon.

Actually, the Autobot was deliberately provoking him and the Decepticon inside him was snarling and hissing and wanted a share of the game.

::You’re playing with fire, Autobot:: he growled as Jazz let energy spark over his skin.

::Don’t think I can take the heat?::

No, he wasn’t. He knew Jazz was more than capable. Barricade vented air in a loud hiss, trying to rein himself in, but the new pulse had him groan.

::Share:: Jazz murmured. ::Let go::

He did. In an almost violent pull-push maneuver he forced his partner with him into the bond, Sharing with a need and aggression that was part battle, part caress. Jazz was with him all the way. He wasn’t submissive, nor was he simply receiving. Barricade’s spark shuddered and keened as the other energy washed over him and if his claws scraped over the silver armor with more strength than intended; it was simply an accident.

The white-out had him almost off-line.

And then there was simply warmth. Jazz was surrounding him, he was surrounding Jazz, and both were buoyed along as the energies dissipated. Barricade felt his spark react and it was a warm glow deep in his chest. It seemed to envelop him completely.

::Hm, that was good:: Jazz murmured lazily.

Blue optics came online and Barricade gazed into the familiar depths. They were still leaning against the boulder, Barricade still had Jazz pinned down, and Jazz was grinning widely.

::We should relieve stress like that more often. After battle. You get creative, Cade. Me like::

Those infuriating fingers were lazily playing along the fractures again. Barricade stepped back and let go of Jazz’s other hand, only to be caught and pulled back.

“Don’t disturb the afterglow, Cade.”

“You’ve been on the humans’ porn channel again,” Barricade growled.

“I don’t see you complainin’.”

The shock-trooper looked at the scratch marks on the silver skin.

“Neither am I,” Jazz added, smirking. He caressed the deep mark on Barricade’s chest. “You should get that looked at by Ratchet.”

Barricade growled again. “Now who’s disturbing the afterglow?”

“Just sayin’. He’ll be pissed off if you crawl off to lick your wounds, Cade.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need repairs.”

“Riiiight. Just a scratch.”

All damage was superficial and the few deeper hits had barely scratched secondary systems and power lines. If this had been a life and death fight, Barricade could have gone on for a lot longer. And he wouldn’t have let the other escape. Shock-troopers were tenacious and hard to kill bastards, as many called them. And rightly so.

It wasn’t really anything this shock-trooper hadn’t dealt with on his own before. The fight had been a battle scenario set up to train Iron Man against multiple opponents of different backgrounds, abilities and strengths. Barricade had seen no harm in being part of that elite group of opponents. It had also scratched an itch he had had for a while. He was a warrior and he hadn’t had a decent fight in a long time.

This one had been very satisfying.

Jazz smirked. ::Same here:: he sent and Barricade realized that the bond’s connections were still wide open and deeply entwined.

The whine of thrusters alerted them to the approach of someone.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Iron Man called as he landed, a bit unsteadily, not far away.

 _Die_ , Barricade thought, but with no real malice.

::Oh, shush:: Jazz sent. Aloud he said, “I dig the new looks, Tony.”

Iron Man’s armor had seen better days. It was clearly suffering from stress fractures as well, and the left side looked scorched. One repulsor wasn’t working.

“I had worse,” Tony replied, shrugging. Something flaked off his shoulder.

“You sound like Cade.”

Barricade briefly tightened his clawed fingers, letting them dig into the sensitive net. Jazz’s blue optics flashed with amusement, not with pain. There was also something else, something very intimate and private and intense. Barricade had to clamp down on his reaction to the teasing light and the open offer. Damn the Autobot for provoking him!

::Hit a nerve, Cade?::

He chose to ignore the taunt, but one claw scratched slowly over a line of sensors that had yet to off-line. Jazz wanted this. He was actually leading Barricade right into those reactions.

The former Decepticon felt another thrill course through him.

“Who won?” Jazz asked the human Prime who was watching all of it with an unreadable expression, thanks to the helmet and mask.

“We got a tie.”

Jazz smirked. “Whose decision was that?”

“General consensus,” Tony replied vaguely.

From the look of things it was close enough to the truth.

“Need a lift?” the Autobots’ second-in-command offered.

“Nah, I’m fine. Barricade?”

The former Decepticon glared at Iron Man, red optics flashing.

“I’ll get him to see Ratchet, don’t worry.”

As a Prime he was looking out for those under his command, Barricade mused. He might still not be comfortable with what he truly was, but Tony Stark had finally accepted his dual responsibilities. Learning how to use his abilities was part of that.

“Okay. Not worried anyway. I know this was nothing,” Tony said, smile audible. “But it was appreciated, Barricade. Thanks,” he added, voice serious. There was a barely perceptible bow of the red-and-golden head.

Barricade met the glowing eye slits and nodded wordlessly. One warrior to another. Stark had held his ground, he had managed to get past Barricade, and he had apparently ‘survived’ for a little while longer. Had the shock-trooper wanted to, he could have killed the human Prime. But that hadn’t been the general aim of this little game. Barricade was also aware of the fact that if Stark wanted to, he could seriously damage one of his own kind. The fractures showed the mech how powerful those blasts were. And if Tony hadn’t ploughed on but had stayed behind to finish him off, Barricade might be in a worse shape than he was. And Iron Man might need extensive recharge, too, he mused darkly.

But the aim had been to get past the shock-trooper, not kill him. Get past he had. Iron Man lifted off and suddenly disappeared.

“Show off,” Barricade rumbled, impressed by the space bridging abilities.

“Probably the fastest way to avoid getting a medical here on base,” Jazz remarked. “Speaking of  
which…”

Red optics flashed. “I’m fine, Autobot.”

“I repeat: not.”

Again, those infuriating fingers were all over his armor and Barricade batted them away. He finally caught the wrists and they were back in their original positions.

“Kinky,” Jazz repeated, optics darkening. The hiss of his vents was loud in the small space between them, ventilators humming. And the bright spark was burning within them.

They had taken the edge off, but Barricade felt a familiar stirring, a pulse of need that had yet to be satisfied. The heat of the battle had dissipated, but the need for closeness remained.

“I believe you have the kink, Jazz,” Barricade replied, grinning nastily.

“Hm, let’s go for: we both got the hots and I love a mech after battle.”

“I don’t feel ‘hot’,” Barricade snarled.

“No, you feel downright blazin’ supernova, Cade,” came the purr.

The charge running through them was almost blinding. Barricade knew what his bonded was doing and he had little resistance to it. Not with the thrill of the hunt, of the fight, still rebounding in his mind. Even with the edge off, he wanted to sink into the bond and take and enjoy and give. It was something they had never had the luxury of doing on Cybertron. On Earth, it was different. It was what had healed them.

::Livin’ on the edge:: Jazz hummed through the bond. ::We're livin' on the edge, you can't help yourself from fallin', livin' on the edge, you can't help yourself at all, livin' on the edge…::

He silenced he song with a power surge of his own, drowning out the hums and songs with a charge that left both of them venting air and their systems screeching to a halt.

Jazz grabbed onto him in their shared bond, held him close, was held, and Barricade knew he wouldn’t let go. Never. This was his. Only his. His to protect. His to share. His to cherish.

The bond thrummed with the emotions, sang with them.

Vents went into overdrive as the possessive-aggressive wave washed over the two mechs, and Barricade felt himself slump against silver Autobot, drained and elated in one.

Red optics gazed into blue ones, right into the core of a spark he knew as well as his own. He read a lot in there, more than he could ever put into words, more than he could understand. The fire burning in their depths was reflected by his own and while it was sated and simply glowing, it was a reminder of what lurked behind the laid back exterior of his bonded. All pretense was gone, the raw emotions on display, the truth there for him to see. Barricade was open, but not vulnerable. He was never vulnerable when it came to Jazz; nor was his partner ever weak or vulnerable himself.

Humans would declare their love. Mechs didn’t have that concept. What passed between them was more and too alien for a human mind to comprehend.

::Should get back:: Jazz whispered, sounding pleasantly tired, almost lazy, and so very much at ease.

Barricade had to agree. He didn’t want to be the focus of a search party. There would also be a debriefing.

::And a visit to med bay::

He sighed, defeated and resigned to the fact. Jazz smiled warmly. Barricade pushed away, suddenly aware of all the little failure notices, alerts to his condition and programs that had apparently been fragged or had stopped running. Nothing major, but still something that had to be taken care of.

He also needed a recharge.

Jazz transformed, almost bouncing on his shocks, and Barricade followed. Slower. With a few grinding noises that told of a few more problems to be taken care of.

They drove back to base, slow and deliberately taking the scenic route.

* * *

Tony kicked his feet up on the desk, spoon in one hand, tub of Triple Dark Chocolate Delite – with chocolate covered coffee beans as crunchy treats -- in the other. He was freshly showered, his hair still damp, dressed in worn jeans and a snug, black t-shirt. Every muscle in his body screamed, but he felt good. Despite the bruises on his ribs and back. Despite the quite visible one on his left forearm and left cheek. Calm and balanced, lazy and totally at ease, that was what he felt. While the mock battle had pushed him past his limits and then some, he had truly enjoyed himself. Sure, he was puddle now. He was out of energy, his arc reactor had had just enough left to safely use the portal closest to the base, he had bruises on his bruises, but he had made it.

Tony licked ice cream off the spoon and groaned. Delight indeed.

He watched the usual hubbub of the base and grinned when Jazz and Barricade rolled inside. The Saleen looked beat up, but he was mobile, and from what he had caught out in the desert, Barricade hadn’t been that bad off. Nope, not bad off indeed.

Tony ate another spoon full and pondered adding whipped cream just for the fun of it when someone plopped down on the couch beside him.

“For a holoform you’re heavy,” Stark remarked casually.

Green eyes regarded him calmly as the slender man placed his own feet onto the desk as well.

“You helped develop the more life-like appearance of the holoform, Tony. You should know.”

“I didn’t program it to have you fall down like a ton of bricks. Ice cream?” Tony offered.

It got him a raised eyebrow. “Really? And I’m not a ton of bricks.”

“Hey, offering here. I don’t share my Delite with everybody. And the way you just sat down you’ll need to watch your weight, buddy.”

“Pass. And I don’t gain weight.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing, Roddy, my friend.” Tony licked off more melting goodness. “This kinda weight I like to add.”

“You handled yourself pretty good today,” Rodimus Prime remarked after a stretch of silence.

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m not.”

Tony emptied the tub, biting down on the last beans that spread delicious coffee taste throughout his mouth, and glanced at his friend. “How much did I drain you?”

“Not much.” Rodimus spread his arms. “I can still create this.”

“Not something to go on. These puppies run on a lot less energon than the first few versions Ratchet had whipped up for Ironhide. You can basically maintain them while almost off-line.”

“With a few basic downgrades to the authenticity of the image,” Roddy remarked.

“Working on those flaws.” Tony licked ice cream off his fingers. “And how much did you feel?”

“A few echoes. You’re getting good.”

Stark grinned. “All my hard work.” He leaned back and sank deeper into the comfortable couch. “Man, I’m full.”

“No small wonder.”

“Stop the criticizing. I’ve earned this.”

Roddy chuckled. “You sure did.”

“Some of the tactics were surprising. Barricade was a bonus. Didn’t know he had volunteered.”

“That was the whole idea,” the holoform said. “Barricade needed to stretch his servos. He’s been feeling a bit… caged lately.”

“Jazz told you? Not getting enough Sharing time?” Tony wriggled his eyebrows.

Rodimus snorted, eyes filling with real amusement.

“Not that getting beat up and scrapped stopped those two bunnies from going at it right then and there,” Tony added.

Rodimus laughed. “I think you humans would call it adrenaline.”

“Are all mechs this sexed-up after battle? Because if so… man, I don’t want to be around then.”

“We aren’t.”

“Never had the hots after battle, Roddy?”

“No.”

Tony sighed. “How disappointing.”

Rodimus didn’t comment, just gave him a bemused look.

Tony yawned and stretched his sore body. Extremis would take care of the aches and pains, but it took time. He knew the nano-virus had worked overtime and he would have landed a few broken bones otherwise.

An elbow into his ribs jarred him out of the doze he was starting to fall into.

“Go to bed.”

“You gonna make me?”

“You want to be seen carried out like a petulant child?”

 _No, not so much_ , he mused, giving his friend a mild glare.

“Go and get some sleep. Even Barricade agreed to a recharge.”

That had Stark laugh. “Nice comparison.”

“You’re just as bad as he is when it comes to taking care of yourself. Barricade is a warrior and knows he has to be at his peak. You are a pain in the diodes and need prodding.”

Tony yawned again, but he got up, disposed of the empty tub, and shuffled off. Roddy followed, which earned him a narrow-eyed look from Tony.

“I don’t need a baby-sitter to find my bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I’ve outgrown bedtime stories.”

“Shut up, Tony, and walk.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Roddy gave him a little push and Tony glared again, but he walked. They arrived at the base’s guest quarters, which were no more luxurious than any other quarters. Tony didn’t need plush and leather and silk. He needed clean sheets and a bathroom. And those sheets were beckoning to him.

He yawned again.

Stress relief was fun, but it left him beat.

Another little push.

“You’re in a hurry to get me into bed,” he muttered and kicked off his shoes. “Knew this whole bond thing was coming back to bite me in the ass.”

Roddy chuckled, watching him. “Don’t get your hopes up, Stark.”

Tony fell onto the bed, tired and feeling exhaustion pull him deeper. “You wish I could.”

And then he was out like a light.

 

 

The hologram dispersed and down in the hangar, Rodimus Prime transformed. He walked over to where Jazz was lounging near the wide doors leading outside.

“Finally asleep?” the smaller mech asked, grinning.

“Yep. Yours?”

“Recharging peacefully. Mission accomplished.”

Both mechs shared a knowing grin. While Jazz was hardly Barricade’s guardian or protector, as a spark-bonded it was his duty to look out for his partner. Rodimus Prime had long since become more than a simple guardian to Tony Stark, though he wasn’t spark-bonded.

“Wanna review the battle tapes?” Jazz offered. “Heard they make for some pretty entertainin’ times.”

“Sounds like fun. Lead on.”

They walked to one of the ramps leading a level down where the debriefing rooms were located, and where Jazz set up the screen to give them a good idea on what had occurred throughout the mock battle.

Rodimus leaned back, watching it all with an analytical optic, and he had to agree with the general consensus: ´Tony had become very good. Really good.

::Am good:: a sleepy voice murmured.

::Sleep, Tony::

::Ayeaye:: he slurred. ::Mom::

Rodimus smiled slightly to himself.

“Link?” Jazz asked quietly, keen optics picking up on the minute shift. “I can tell, y’know,” he added at Rodimus’ quizzical expression. “Got one myself. And watching Sam argue with Cade… you learn to look for signs.”

The Prime shrugged. “Tony keeps picking up odds and ends sometimes.”

“Runs deep, hm?”

“Not like that,” Rodimus argued, knowing where it went.

“All of us, we have a connection to another spark. Always different.” Jazz gazed back at the screen again, expression unreadable. “It’s never like others think they know.”

Rodimus was quiet, gaze turned inward. He couldn’t see a connection, he couldn’t touch Tony, but he knew he was there. Sometimes he picked up things from his charge as well. Just sometimes.  


Tony called what he had seen a Moebius strip. A band that has only one surface and one side with the mathematical property that it is non-orientable. It described them, he had once said rather cryptically.

Today Rodimus knew that was true.

“No, it’s not,” the young Prime finally said, breaking the silence. “Not at all.”

Jazz smiled briefly. “It’s yours. No one gets to tell you what it is, Rodimus. No one gets either of you to do something you’re not comfortable with. Just tell ‘em to keep it to themselves,” he added, grinning cheekily. “I did with Cade. Served us well.”

And Barricade had been a Decepticon at the time the bond had happened, Rodimus knew. This was way different and way more complicated.

“Good advice,” he said softly.

“Prime didn’t make me his second-in-command for nothin’,” Jazz declared, optics alight. “Gotta beat it into your Prime heads sometimes.”

“Probably.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

“Welcome. Now let’s get back to the evenin’ entertainment.”

Rodimus did, watching Iron Man battle against enormous odds and using everything at his disposal in a way that spoke of years and years of practice.

He was proud.

Proud of the other Prime, proud of Iron Man and proud of Tony.

  
fin!


End file.
